We Danced Under the Stars
by Larue la Follie
Summary: Castle and Beckett are just starting a life together when an accident threatens to tear everything apart.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** **I do not own **_**Castle**_**. If I did, they would not be allowed to have such a long hiatus after that finale.**

* * *

It hurts.

A searing pain, cutting through her with each breath she takes.

Each breath she holds.

There is no relief.

A cry.

Coming from somewhere in the distance.

Footsteps running towards her.

Or are they?

She'd like to think that someone was running to her side but the pain is so blinding, she's lost all sense of direction.

It hurts.

Almost as much as when she found out her mother died. Once that information seeped in and denial no longer worked.

Almost as much as when she convinced him she had no memory of her shooting. That look on his face. The hope turned to disappointment. To despair.

Or was it fear – a fear that she _would _remember – turning into relief that she didn't?

She's used to pain.

It's no stranger to her.

But still; it has the power to overwhelm her.

Footsteps.

So close.

Right next to her.

Her vision is going fuzzy, but still.

She knows it's him.

She always knows when he is near.

Can feel his presence – that current that runs between them.

That current that makes her feel so painfully aware of his nearness. So painfully aware that just the tiniest movement would connect them.

Make them come to life.

That's how she feels when he is near.

Alive.

'Kate.'

It's him.

He whispers. Strokes her cheek.

His eyes are frightened.

She says the only thing she knows how to say.

'It hurts.'

'I know.'

There are tears in his eyes.

She wants to tell him not to cry.

That she will be okay.

But her voice has failed her and she doesn't even know if there would be any truth to that declaration.

So she raises a hand. Shaking with the effort.

She wants to touch his face – prove to him they're both still here.

But instead, he catches her hand in his own.

It feels safe.

His hands enveloping hers, she feels safe.

Her hands aren't small but in his own, it feels like they are.

She feels small.

And it still hurts.

He knows.

He can see the pain.

His grasp on her hand is firmer now.

More secure.

He bares a small part of her hand and brings it to his lips.

All she's ever wanted.

To feel his lips on hers and be free enough to enjoy it.

'You're going to be okay,' he tells her and she's not sure which of them he is trying to convince more.

His own hands are shaking.

He's scared, too.

She tries to smile. To reassure him.

But she can't find the strength.

All she wants is the pain to go away. For the clock to turn back so she can return to her life.

Is it too late?

She has so much to live for.

So much.

Things are only beginning.

She opens her mouth, trying to find a way to tell him this.

But he leans over her, trying to take the struggle away by pressing his lips against her own.

And when he ends the kiss – moving only just enough so that their lips aren't touching but they can still feel the other's breath – she tells him the only other words she remembers.

The only other words she knows are true.

_I love you._

And then, she is taken back to the beginning.

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**A/N:**** This is my first fanfiction, so please give me feedback & let me know if I should continue or not! :) (And, obviously, the next chapter will be a fair deal longer.)**


	2. One

**Disclaimer: still don't own Castle. Most likely never will.**

**A/N: This story is set some time pre-_Always_. Unfortunately, _Always _never happens in this story. Fortunately, Castle & Beckett still get together and the whole secrets and angst leading up to the finale never happened. Hurrah!  
**

**Also, italics in this chapter indicate the present (confusing, I know) - i.e. where we left off last chapter.**

**Rating has been changed! This story is now for mature eyes only. ;)**

* * *

She's sitting next to him in her car and, not for the first time, she wants to reach her hand out and rub it against his developing stubble. She could never tell him, of course, but she has a bit of a thing for it. That shadow that appears along his jaw at the end of a long day.

Biting her lip, she quickly shifts her gaze back to the red light in front of her.

'Seen something you like, Detective?'

Damn. He saw her.

'Yeah. You should have seen the guy that just walked past your window,' she bites back, hoping to cover her tracks.

The lights turn green and she gratefully turns her attention back to driving. All she wants to do is get back so she can cross her t's, dot her i's and then get home. Away from him.

It's becoming harder and harder to resist him and she doesn't know why. A part of her has been intrigued by him since the day he started working with her but this part of her has become impossible to drown out. She gazes openly at him, thinking of scenarios that make the normally restrained Detective blush.

She pulls in to the precinct, parking her car. And she cannot contain the sigh that escapes her as she leaves the car; free from being in an enclosed space with him.

Is it a sigh of relief or of longing?

She does not want to know.

* * *

Kate Beckett shuts the door of her apartment behind her, a bag of takeout in her hand.

The room that greets her is cold. Empty.

She shrugs off her coat and puts her bag down, trying not to pay attention to the loneliness of her home. She has been looking forward to this moment all day – the moment where she can leave work behind and be free – and she refuses to let a silly crush ruin it.

A voice in her head tells her it is far more than a silly crush but she ignores it, whipping out chopsticks and devouring a dinner that attempts to make up for the lunch she was too busy to eat.

Her dinner finished, she walks to her room and grabs the robe on the back of her door. The bath is filled as far as it can go while still holding bubbles and allowing her room to read a book without damaging the pages.

She sinks in, closing her eyes as the warmth envelops her. It has been a stressful week. And to top it off, Castle seems to have been more unbearable than usual. Not in the normal sense, either. Sure, their banter has continued but he seems to have been..._closer _to her than usual this week.

It feels as though every time she's turned around, he's been there – standing right next to her. So close that it's been tempting to take a step towards him and close that small distance between him.

She tosses her head back, closing her eyes shut in an attempt to push him out of her mind.

Her hands reach for the book next to her but any attempt to read is interrupted by a knocking on her door.

Kate's eyes shoot open.

It couldn't be him – could it?

But who else would it be?

But why would he be here? a little voice in her asks. Why would he want to come and see you?

Maybe she imagined it.

But no.

There it is again.

Another knock.

Someone's there.

She slowly gets up out of the bath, pulling her robe around her and walking cautiously out to her door.

Her eye presses against the peephole and she can't help but open the door when she sees him standing there.

He walks in without being asked, a bottle of wine in his hand.

'Castle. What are you doing here?'

He stares at her, as though he's only just seen her.

'You're wearing a robe.'

She rolls her eyes.

He holds the wine out to her. A peace offering.

'I thought you might want this as much as me after the case we've just had. So I thought I'd be charitable and come share it with you.'

The case. She closes her eyes briefly, trying to push the past week out of her mind. The mother she searched for desperately but couldn't save. The two children – babies, really – who had looked at her with such confusion each time she'd visited their father to question him or update him on the case.

Not something she wished to remember.

'Good idea.'

'Of course,' he continues, 'I had no idea I'd be lucky enough to find you wearing _that_.'

She glares at him, wrapping her robe around her protectively and trying to ignore the somersaults her stomach is performing.

'I'm getting changed,' she announces.

'Pyjamas?' he asks hopefully.

She leans in towards him, smiling sweetly. 'Keep that up, and I'm throwing you out of my home. Painfully.'

His face takes on a serious expression and she almost expects him to salute her, to break the sobriety he's showing.

'I'll pour the wine.'

She takes a step back, her stomach still somersaulting, her throat suddenly tightening. 'Glasses are in the cupboard over there,' she points carelessly, making her escape.

What is going on?

One moment, she's chiding him as she normally does, the next he's gazing at her with a look that makes her feel everything she's been trying to ignore ever since she met him.

She's a strong woman. But she's not sure how much longer she can continue to fight these feelings.

He's seated on her couch when she comes out. Sipping from the glass of red wine in his hand. Another glass on the table next to him. For her.

She sits next to him, unable to ignore the heat radiating from his body as she picks up her own glass and takes a sip. And another. The wine travels straight down to her stomach, pleasantly tingling.

They chat. A conversation filled with nothing in particular and several comfortable silences. She can't remember ever having an uncomfortable silence with Castle and that is worth something. She's always taken awhile to warm to new people and uncomfortable silences are normally a part of that. But with him, it's different.

They match each other sip for sip. Somehow, they seem to raise their glasses to their lips at the same time and before too long, they're each onto their final glass from the bottle he brought over.

'How did that happen?' he asks, draining the bottle into his cup. She smirks, realising she got a fuller glass than him.

He does look a bit bereft, though, and she finds herself saying; 'I can open another bottle.'

'Maybe after I've finished this one.'

It's comfortable, sitting here on the couch with him. She fights the urge to swing her legs up into his lap but can't help wondering how it would feel.

'Staring at me again, Detective Beckett?'

It's his turn to smirk now and her breath catches as she notices the red wine stain on his lips. She wonders how it would feel to have his lips against hers – not undercover this time, but as two consenting adults. Wonders how he would taste mixed with this wine they've been drinking.

He's staring at her now and she realises he's still waiting for some sort of response. 'What do you mean, "again"?' Her voice is lower and quieter than she intended, and she's beginning to really doubt her ability to fight her feelings.

'Well, there was that moment at the lights this evening. In your car.'

Oh no. His voice is lower, too.

'So. What were you looking at just now?'

She should get up off this couch. Put some distance between them. She's far from being drunk but she can feel herself entering the delicious phase of tipsiness. Her defences are down. Hell, they've been dropping all week. And all of sudden, she doesn't know if she can trust herself. Her mouth is opening to reply and she can't stop the words that come out.

'Your lips.'

The playful glint in his eyes disappears. He sets his glass down and then takes hers from her hands, setting it down, too. No words are spoken between them but there's no need. She's pretty sure that what she's seeing in his eyes is a reflection of what he is seeing in hers.

Desire.

He leans forward, towards her, and all of a sudden she doesn't have to wonder how his mouth would taste because his lips are pressed against hers. His body is pressing against hers and she surrenders, lying down on the couch as his kiss sends the butterflies in her stomach free all through her body.

His body is pressing against hers, his tongue exploring her mouth and she has never felt so alive. Her hands thread through his hair and then, as suddenly as it started, it stops as he pulls away, looking at her.

Her breathing is ragged, more from anticipation than anything they've already done.

'What is it?' she whispers.

'Is this what you want?'

'Rick.'

'I didn't bring the wine here to seduce you. I mean, not that I don't want to – but I don't want you thinking that was why I came.'

'Why did you come here, then?'

'To have you near me,' he says, after a pause.

Her hand rests on the side of his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. It brushes against the stubble she has tried to avoid staring at every afternoon and she smiles up at him, hooking her hands at the back of his neck and bringing him back to her.

She pulls him in for a deep kiss then breaks away, giving herself just enough space to say something she has never been more sure of.

'This is what I want.'

He looks at her. A line has been crossed. They both know this but neither have any regret – it's been a long time coming.

He drops a kiss on her lips. Trails it across her jaw, down onto her neck. She writhes underneath him as his lips burn her skin, leaving her just in time so as not to make a mark.

She looks at him in surprise as he stands up from the couch but he grabs her hands in his own and pulls her up.

'I think we should go to your room,' he tells her huskily.

She nods, leading him there. Normally, Kate Beckett is the type to over think situations but right now every thought has left her but the fact that she wants Richard Castle in her bed.

And she can't remember the last time she wanted something so badly. Every part of her is crying out with this longing, drowning any chance her logic would have of stepping in and giving her some advice.

He's never been in her room before. Every time he has been at her place, the door to her room has been closed, as it normally is, and she's never had any reason to invite him in.

Kate's room has filled his imagination for the past God only knows how long. He can't count the number of times he's found himself wondering how it looks. How it's decorated. Whether her bedspread would be girly or no nonsense.

But he's not interested in how her room looks right now. He's only seeing the woman standing before him. The woman he has dreamed about for so long; who he began to think he did not stand a chance with.

For once, he's clueless. He doesn't know if he should take the lead or let her. He's desperate not to put a foot wrong but the feelings building inside him have him wondering how much longer any semblance of control is going to last.

The decision is made for him; the next thing he knows, Kate's fingers are busily unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it off him in record time. His own fingers hook under the top she's put on, pulling it off her and running his fingers along her skin. She shudders as his fingers brush against her stomach and then up her back, skilfully undoing the bra she had pulled on right after he arrived.

He lays her down on the bed, pulling her pants off and then his own before positioning himself on top of her.

'You are so beautiful, Kate,' he tells her, his hands discovering her breasts, his mouth soon joining. She moans as his tongue flicks against her nipple before his teeth trail along it – not rough enough to cause pain but not altogether gentle, either.

His tongue trails across to her other breast, his mouth performing the same tricks and Kate closes her eyes, her back arching in pleasure. Her hands knot in his hair as she feels his breath hot against her chest.

'Do you know how long I've wanted to do this for?' he asks, bringing his face up to look at hers.

'Sh,' she whispers, holding a finger against his lips and then, before he knows what's happened, she is straddling him. She rubs her cheek briefly against his stubble before her lips meet his. Her hands are roaming over his body and then she pulls out of the kiss as her fingers hook around his briefs. He raises his hips, to allow her to pull them off and her hand grasps onto his erection as her lips again seek out his.

He groans into her mouth as her hand alternates between squeezes and strokes. She ends the kiss and moves down his body, taking him into her mouth while continuing her handwork.

'Jesus, Kate,' he moans as all thoughts fly out of his mind. He grabs her wrist as he feels himself reaching the brink and she looks up at him with a satisfied smile.

'Your turn now,' he declares and she lays back, eyes gleaming in anticipation.

He places kisses along her inner right thigh, resisting the urge to smile as she feels him squirming against him. His hand cups her over her underwear and then his fingers lightly massage her. It's unbearable – to have him so close yet to only just be feeling him where she needs him the most. But then she feels him sliding her underwear off and he's back; stroking her with more pressure, leaving her panting and desperate for him.

'Rick,' she pleads breathlessly.

He continues to tease her and she's contemplating putting him in an unescapable grip so she can have her way with him when he moves up, eyes looking into hers as though seeking the final go ahead.

She gives him a small nod and then groans as she feels him filling her. He stays there for a moment before pulling out slowly and re-entering her. Then again. And again.

And, when his self-control begins to wane, he sets up a steady rhythm as both their breaths become ragged. Kate's eyes close as she feels him filling her up, all the way to her very core, her hips moving in time with him.

He threads his fingers through her own and she opens her eyes right as she lets go in time with him, and they become one.

* * *

_She can feel sleep threatening to take her over._

_A darkness is coming over her and her eyes shut against the world that now feels so far away._

_But somewhere close by, a hand is grasping firmly onto hers._

_Fingers weave through hers._

_And even if her eyes were open, she wouldn't know which fingers were hers and which were his._

_They are one._

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**Thank you everyone who took the time to review the first chapter! Please keep reviewing (and if you haven't yet – what are you waiting for? :P ) – reading them makes my day.**


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